


The Final Bow

by princessdi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All I write is Prussia dying, Angst, Brothers Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Childhood Friends, Gen, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Sex, Love Confessions, Minor Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Original Character Death(s), Prussia-Centric (Hetalia), Sibling Bonding, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessdi/pseuds/princessdi
Summary: The truth of the matter is that Gilbert Beilschmidt was dying. Over the years, he'd wanted to say so much to all the nations, but knew it wasn't in anyone's best interest to. Now he could finally set free all that truthful shit inside to the ones who matter most. Revision of 'The Finale'





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Finale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072034) by [princessdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessdi/pseuds/princessdi). 



The truth of the matter was that Gilbert Beilschmidt was dying.  
  
The strange thing was, this no longer terrified him. He'd had years to come to terms with his newfound mortality. He used to fear death, but now, the thought it was comforting like an old friend. There was no point in fighting against it or trying to run. The Grim Reaper got us all in the end. Not even his weird quasi-nation status had exempted him like West and Gilbert had previously believed.   
  
If Prussia was being honest, he thought it sucked. Finding that out had sent him into a rage. Glasses were shattered, items were thrown across the room. Material objects could be destroyed because what use would he have for them if he was to die in a matter of decades? He had turned into a giant toddler - screaming and throwing fits at anyone who dared mention it to him, who tried to remind him of his own weakness. He hadn't even sparred his best friends and brother. In fact, they had enraged him so much over it that he'd physically assaulted them on a few occasions.   
  
Of course he eventually felt guilty. And once it hit him, he never stopped apologizing for it. He would try and try to make it up to them, but Gilbert knew they all chalked it up to his mental state. And thus, the cycle continued.   
  
It took three decades for his self-diagnosis to become accepted. Gilbert knew it was a strange morning from the outset. For an hour, he laid on his back staring at the ceiling, contemplating on his entire existence. He felt a weight in the middle of his stomach drag all his innards down. 'I don't have much time left. I can either man up or I can continue to act childishly.' The weight, the weight he had been feeling for years, vanished. That day was his new beginning, his second chance to make things right.   
  
Prussia could finally look at the world again with his optimistic outlook. He didn't feel the deep rooted hatred for the living like he had before. He felt peace and serenity finally washing over him. He set himself on his new goal in life - redemption and honesty. 

 

He had been no stranger to wars. As a result, every nation had a bit of beef with him. There had been so many things he'd hungered for years to say to them all, but knew it was never in anyone's best interest to. Now he could finally set free all that truthful shit inside. He wanted to tell Ivan how much he hated. Arthur needed to know that Gilbert didn't actually want bad things to happen to the Briton, it was only because he was so amusing when he was angry he caused the other so much havoc. Mathias needed to finally realize that he was nothing more than a second rate drinking buddy. This list continued down the line. No one stopped him once he started. They didn't believe the majority of what he was saying. In fact, most of the nations believed Prussia was finally hallucinating. They warned the others to take what he says with a grain of salt. They continued about their lives, only replaying what Gilbert had said to chuckle about it. 

 

If he still had a chance at living, perhaps Gilbert would be mad. This was his blunt opinion on them all after all. But it wasn't worth the fight. They could take it or leave it for all he gave a damn about. This was for him, not them. 

Only a few actually believed what he had said to be true. Of course, those were the only ones who really knew him. And those were the only ones that Gilbert had wanted to take him seriously. While he wouldn't go so far as to say that all of their opinions mattered to him, he would say that he did want them to finally know the truth.

 

Roderick was the first one Gilbert had turned to. What relief came to Gilbert for finally saying all that had been on his mind! His words tasted acidic in his mouth as he flung them at his cousin. He had been through torturous centuries with that prissy boy - that aristocrat who knew nothing of Gilbert's own struggles for survival, yet judged him just them same and continuously one-upped him in all the little ways. All the ways that went beyond simple battles for war and land. Marrying his childhood love, forming alliances with his best friends to go to war against him. The things that had made the Prussian's blood boil and wish to assassinate the Austrian with his own hands. 

Eventually though, his words turned tender. The wars years, when they were forced to live together because of Germany, had forced Gilbert to understand Austria in ways he never thought possible. He no longer knew what made him tick, but the reasons why. He saw his cousin go through a divorce that cut him like a knife and left him physically ill. Through some of the worst atrocities man has ever seen, but staring at them stoically and trying to tackle them with as much poise as one could muster. Gilbert had developed a subtle appreciation for the other man. He no longer hesitated to call Roderick his family and, on rare occasions, he even said so with pride. He wouldn't go so far as to say he felt love for him, but Gilbert certainly didn't despise Austria like he had once done so with ease. 

 

It made sense for Gilbert to address Francis and Antonio together. After all, they were a trio, a band of brothers. If they couldn't go out of this world together like they once believed, then they could at least bid adieu together. He minced no words in going through the betrayal he had so recently felt. The death sentence, delivered to him on a silver platter by France and defended by Spain, was the worst thing that either of them had done to him since killing Holy Rome. He decided to spare them the rant they've heard before about how Austria or Germany should've been dissolved, not he who was dragged along for the ride. Instead, after kissing perfidy one last time, he reflected on the good times.

Tears began welling in Gilbert's eyes as he spoke about all the joy his closest friends has brought him. No matter what they had gone through, what two had done to the other one, at the end of the day he'd miss them. He'd miss getting into trouble with them and irritating their neighbors in any way possible. How could Francis and Antonio continue to be a public nuisance without the loudest, most obnoxious of the group? He begged them to continue all pranks and schemes they had had planned. The Prussian wanted them to continue to harass the world in his honor while he watched, laughing and smiling in the next life. None of the three left that day with a dry eye after that sediment was heard. 

 

Elizaveta was easier and harder to speak to than all the rest. They had been many things to one another. Friends, partners in crimes, lovers, enemies. Where could Gilbert even begin? The truth. "I hated Roderick because of you. I won wars because of you. I built palaces and composed concertos for you." The tears for her came soon. He disapproved of this, but kept going. There was no point in sugarcoating things to ease any guilt or longing she may have towards him. He'd be gone in a matter of weeks anyways and he knew she'd get over it all in time. Hungary was strong like that. He loved her for it. 

He spilled his heart out. He told her when he loved her, why, how he always imagined she'd run away from the Austro-Hungarian empire to be with him. How they could both leave their duties behind as nations and live together, wild and free like the humans do. In jest, he asked her if she would do so now and wasn't surprised when she denied. It would mean certain death for her as well. He smiled weakly and told her how she had made being one of Russia's puppets worthwhile. The only thing that had kept him sane behind the Iron Curtain was being able to see her. How they were both able to find comfort in the other's arms and bed once more, but how it felt like a slap whenever she denied there could ever be anything more between them. He didn't cry, but Elizaveta sobbed and reached for him. "It's amazing how you can be here for me when I'm dying, but when I'm alive you run towards Austria." The truthfulness of what he had said stung them both, Gilbert hadn't realized what he had said until it was out into the air. He quickly recanted as best as he could and allowed himself a final chance to sleep with her. 

 

Germany was the worst of all. If Gilbert could have it his way, he wouldn't speak to his brother at all. It would've been perfect if he could've gone without ever having this conversation with Ludwig. But the Prussian had always prided himself on being able to do the toughest jobs and this could be no exception. The two hardly spoke. They sat for the longest time in mutual silence, each knowing what was on the other's mind thanks to the special bond siblings share. 

They only began to talk when Ludwig broke down. He had never been this distraught, not even as a small child. He clung to his brother and begged Gilbert to live, to live for the German's sake. He needed his older brother. There was so much he didn't know about being a nation and look at what he had already done! He'd almost destroyed the world with his very hands and would've been happy to see it submerged in a sea of red, black, and white. Gilbert had to find a loophole, a way to cheat death. The Prussian held Ludwig close. He didn't talk until Germany had let it all out. There wasn't any point in trying to speak over his brother while he was irrational since the younger nation wouldn't be able to comprehend it. "West, you'll be fine without me. You've always been fine. You've always thought you needed me more than you actually do."

They both hoped he was right. 

 

The strange thing about life is that it always finds a way to kick you on the way out. For Gilbert, that was no different. He died on July seventeenth. A Tuesday. The same day of the week and exactly a month before Old Fritz had passed. 

 

Of course, Gilbert was wide awake for his death. To go in his sleep would be too kind for a nation that's legacy was being a militaristic state that caused petty wars only for expansion and power grabs. He was lying in bed, knowing that the time was coming. He saw the peculiar chick that was always present change into Old Fritz with his hand extended towards Prussia.

"Gilbert, I've missed you so much."

Prussia smiled and took the hand of his former ruler, boss, and father figure. Feelings of love and safety surrounded him as the world got a little brighter. "Old Fritz, I hope I made you proud."


End file.
